


Thank You

by secretsalex



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus is a monster basically, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hogwarts, Homophobic Language, Humiliation, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Misogyny, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Room of Requirement, but really he hates himself, you think albus hates scorpius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 14:31:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13078863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsalex/pseuds/secretsalex
Summary: Scorpius has some misconceptions about his relationship with Albus Severus. Albus clarifies his position.





	Thank You

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [HP NextGen DarkFest ](http://nextgendarkfest.livejournal.com/38925.html) back in 2011. I wrote it after some really painful conversations about self-loathing and homophobia in a queer theory seminar I was taking at the time, and you should mind the tags. It's a rough read.

“Shut your fucking mouth, you little whore.” The backhand across Scorpius's face shouldn't have surprised him, but it did, and stars danced briefly before his eyes as Albus Potter swam back into view. 

Albus's hair, a brown and unruly mop that fell to his chin in waves that had set witches to giggling behind their hands since his second year, was pushed back away from his face, revealing high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and his father's sparkling green eyes. You couldn't say, however, that Albus Severus Potter looked like his father. Not really. Albus's good looks were crueler, more angular. Dangerous. Especially at times like this, when his patrician lips were set in a firm, disapproving line, and those handsome green eyes were a little too bright.

“Who do you belong to?” Albus demanded, pushing Scorpius's head back against the headboard and revealing a long expanse of pale, exposed throat. 

“You, Albus,” Scorpius murmured, as he always did.

Albus smiled, one hand tangled in Scorpius's fine blond hair and the other snaking dangerously around Scorpius's throat. “That's right. You're my little bitch, aren't you? You even look like a bitch, you know that?”

Albus flicked his eyes up and down Scorpius's waifish body. Scorpius had inherited all of Draco's fine bone structure and none of his height, leaving him, at seventeen, acutely delicate in bearing. He was too small, too thin, all knobby shoulders and exposed ribs and hipbones, a head shorter and nearly four stone lighter than the boy currently pinning him down. 

“All that pretty blond hair,” Albus crooned, pulling a handful of it until a few of the strands snapped. “And those pretty red whore lips. You look like a little girl, Malfoy—a stupid little slut girl for me to fuck.”

Scorpius didn't even blush when Albus said these things any more. Albus had been fucking him for months now (and that was the only way to describe it—Albus was fucking Scorpius), and he always said the worst, most degrading things possible. At first Scorpius had writhed with shame. Now he didn't.

“So, slag, how do you want it? Do you want to suck my cock or do you want to get fucked?” Albus grinned, one hand falling to the front of his jeans. “You want my come all over your pretty little face or up your arse?” As he spoke, he unzipped his fly and pulled out his prick, a heavy and throbbing erection glistening with precome that pulled Scorpius's gaze like a magnet.

“Fuck me, Albus,” Scorpius whispered. At first, when this little game had sprung up between them, Scorpius had tried to resist, tried to save himself the embarrassment of letting Albus treat him this way. The resistance hadn't lasted long. After all, as Albus had so crudely pointed out, Scorpius's mouth might be saying no, but his prick gave him away every time. And today was no exception. Scorpius's long, slightly curved cock was lying rigid against his concave belly and pulsing an almost painful shade of red. 

“That's my good little come slut. That's a good little bitch.” Albus ran an almost gentle hand down Scorpius's throat, down over his chest and to the rings in his nipples, which he tugged mercilessly. “Good girl. Roll over.”

Albus teased a dry finger over Scorpius's balls, going so far as to press against his hole. Scorpius tensed. Albus had never taken him dry, but it always frightened him when he played around with the idea. That was probably why Albus did it.

Scorpius relaxed when he heard Albus finally cast the lubrication spell, but his body tensed again almost immediately when Albus thrust a slick finger up his arse without much finesse. It hurt, an invasive kind of hurt that had more to do with humiliation than physical pain, but when Albus crooked his finger, the pain turned to pleasure and that was somehow worse. Scorpius groaned.

“Feels good, me fingering you?” Albus breathed, leaning over Scorpius's back to whisper low in his ear. “Fingering you like a little girl who can't keep her legs closed?”

Scorpius gasped, big choking breaths of air that sounded almost like sobs. “Y-yes,” he panted, knowing that Albus expected a response to direct questions.

“Yeah you do,” Albus mumbled, working in a second finger. “Gonna open you up, baby. Gonna open you up so you can take my cock.”

Scorpius leaned into Albus's touch, relishing the endearment that had fallen out of Albus's cruel mouth amidst the filth he always spewed when they were fucking. “Do it.”

Albus scissored his fingers, grazing Scorpius's prostate and making him squeak, high-pitched little gasps that echoed in Scorpius's head and made him blush. 

“Are you ready for my cock, baby? You ready for me to fuck you, pretty little whore?” 

“Y-yes. _Yes_.”

Albus lined up and pushed, breaching the ring of muscle and sliding in too far, too fast. Scorpius couldn't contain the little scream. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” Albus whispered, one hand coming down on Scorpius's shuddering back and rubbing slowly, as if he were soothing a child. “I got you, baby. Daddy's got his pretty little slut. Don't be scared.”

Scorpius moaned, feeling his cock jump at the words despite the aching burn of Albus's prick. Gods, it was a fucked up thing to say, a fucked up thing to even think, but the word “Daddy” on Albus's lips made Scorpius's balls fucking throb. The pseudo-comfort of it, the idea that he was protected and safe, that Albus was taking care of him—it was too fucking much to bear. 

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” he suddenly chanted, canting his hips back ever so slightly.

“Oh, baby, that's right, that's so good.” Albus grabbed Scorpius' s hipbones hard, hard enough that Scorpius knew there would be bruises, and pulled Scorpius further onto his cock, all the way down. “Yes, baby, so good. That's right, that's what Daddy wants from his little girl.”

Albus started fucking him in earnest then, hips thrusting heavily but steadily, working until the angle hit Scorpius's prostate with every stroke, making Scorpius cry out rhythmically.

“You're so fucking noisy, you know that?” Albus babbled, keeping up the running dialogue that he'd begun the moment he'd snatched Scorpius out of the hallway and pushed him into the Room of Requirement. “Even witches don't fucking scream like that.”

Scorpius whimpered, trying to quiet himself.

“No, I want you to scream,” Albus commanded, pushing into him even harder. “Take it and fucking scream the way I like it.”

That slight praise was enough; Scorpius opened his mouth, wailing out everything Albus was giving him, every punishing thrust, every degrading word. Albus's hands tightened even further around Scorpius's hips until it felt like the frail bones beneath his strong fingers might break, and it was enough, enough, and suddenly Scorpius was over the edge, helplessly humping the air and getting fucked and coming with a high keen all over the pillows. He was only vaguely aware that Albus was coming with him, shoving his prick in hard and making a noise so deep and low it was like a growl. 

As his orgasm faded, Scorpius collapsed, his body suddenly too weak to hold himself up. He sprawled onto his belly, and Albus followed him right down, laying his body over Scorpius from head to toe, pinning him to the mattress and holding him there in a silent, panting, not-quite embrace.

Scorpius held his breath, not moving, not wanting Albus to move, just wanting to lie there, to be safe, covered in Albus's strong body, feeling the bigger boy's heart racing against his spine.

All too soon, Albus pulled away, his prick slipping out painfully. Scorpius remained still. He didn't want to look up at Albus, knowing he was getting ready to leave, listening to him dress in the candlelight.

“Pass out, did you?” Albus mocked, tossing Scorpius's abandoned trousers onto the bed. 

Scorpius forced himself to sit up, wincing as he maneuvered the trousers up. 

Albus grinned down at him, feral and dangerous. “Sore arse, Malfoy? Merlin, I love watching you limp around the day after I fuck you.” 

Scorpius blinked, freezing with his trousers bunched around his hips. 

“You always walk funny the next day,” Albus continued, smirking. “And I love knowing it was my cock up your arse that did it.” He fastened his robes carelessly and ran a hand through his dark waves of tousled hair. “See you 'round, Malfoy.”

Scorpius stayed in the Room of Requirement for another half an hour, staring at the cold fireplace and feeling Albus's come leaking down his thighs. 

@@@@@@@@@@@

The next day, Scorpius was acutely aware of his gait. Remembering what Albus had said, wondering if Albus was watching him walk across the Great Hall to the Ravenclaw table at lunch, through the hallway to the library in the afternoon. He wasn't that sore, really, just little twinges occasionally, but he was more aware of it than he'd ever been before. Every throb reminded him of Albus, of his sharp-faced, green eyed lover who never spoke to him unless it was to push him up against a wall or into a private room when no one else was looking.

He hadn't seen Albus all day, though. Hadn't seen him presiding over the Slytherin table at lunch as he usually did, basking in his own self-worth. Hadn't seen him striding through the hallways with his circle of friends around him, a circle of friends that extended even beyond Slytherins to encompass the most popular of the seventh years from all the houses. 

Scorpius was rounding a corner into the stairwell to head to the dungeons for Potions when he finally saw the object of his affection, and he was so discombobulated that he stopped dead, then flattened himself against the stone wall and watched in silence.

Albus was lounging against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, standing with three other Slytherin students. A girl, a pretty brunette in low cut robes, was laughing up at something the other two boys were saying.

“Creevey's a fuckin' fag,” one of the boys said, snorting derisively.

“But no one's as queer as Malfoy,” the other boy chimed in. “Even walks like a queer, he does.” Smiling cruelly, the boy mimed a mincing, feminine stride. “Walks like he's got a cock up his arse.”

Albus moved so quickly that Scorpius could barely track the movement. Albus was off the wall in a flash, his fist barreling into the boy's jaw. 

@@@@@@@@@@@

Scorpius pulled the curtains around his bed tightly, cocooning himself in for the night. It had been three days since he'd witnessed Albus coldcocking a fellow Slytherin—three days that had been, for Scorpius, an exquisite kind of torture. He replayed the moment over and over in his mind, wishing he could have seen the expression on Albus's face when he delivered the blow. Replaying Albus's words after the boy had stumbled backwards and hit the stone floor beneath him, looking up at Albus with a mixture of shock and rage on his face. _Shut your fucking mouth, Fletcher_ , Albus had said, almost mildly.

It was hardly a declaration of Albus's affection for Scorpius, but it had to mean something. Scorpius had watched then as Albus stepped over the boy and walked off, the brunette running behind him and shouting for him to wait. 

To Scorpius's surprise, no one else at Hogwarts seemed to have heard about Albus's outburst. Normally the details of a dustup like this would have made the rounds immediately, particularly since it concerned Albus Potter, a seventh year who was already famous for his name, not to mention being the most popular bloke at Hogwarts besides. But it hadn't. As far as Scorpius knew, no one had ever mentioned the incident. At least, it wasn't circulating among the Ravenclaws. Of course, his house was known for their tendency to favour textbooks over gossip, but even his housemates couldn't have resisted such a juicy story—and several of them were thick as thieves with Albus and his pals. 

The only thing Scorpius could figure was that he had been the only witness to the incident besides the four Slytherins themselves, and they had closed ranks and kept it within their own house. Interhouse unity had flourished in the years after the war, but the snakes still protected their own. Hufflepuffs didn't have a monopoly on loyalty, apparently. 

Since it happened, Scorpius had waited on tenterhooks for Albus to find him. Surely this meant that something had changed. Surely this meant that Albus had feelings for him—if not of the same caliber as Scorpius, then at least a fondness, a protectiveness, a warmth, something. Surely this changed the rules of the game, made it mean something more than a quick, violent fuck in an empty room. If nothing else, didn't this mean that Scorpius and Albus were on the same side of something? United by their mutual proclivities against the bigotry of the Adrian Fletchers of the world? 

But, apparently, it did not. Since the incident, Albus had not so much as looked in Scorpius's direction. Instead, Albus appeared in every way completely unaffected by it. Every time Scorpius saw him, he was surrounded by an entourage of students, laughing and smiling. He presided over the Slytherin table at meals with the casual power of a dictator surrounded by sycophants, strode through the hallways with his usual effortless masculinity, flirted with an untold number of blushing witches. It was maddening. 

Scorpius was starting to think that Albus would never look at him again. As he slid under his comforter for the night, he didn't even bother to cast a Silencing charm and wank like he usually did, opting instead to curl up on his side, pull his knobby knees up to his chest and wish for sleep. 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Another week passed before Albus approached Scorpius. When Scorpius felt the large hand land on his small shoulder, he immediately knew it was Albus's, even before he smelled Albus's cologne or heard his voice.

“Room of Requirement. Five minutes.” Albus was gone before Scorpius could turn around.

Scorpius's heart was pounding when he opened the door and stepped inside. As he made his way to the Room, he had imagined a hundred scenarios, some of them romantic and sweet, others desperate and panting. None quite prepared him for what he found, however.

The Room looked exactly as it always did when Albus summoned him for these meetings—the bed was large but not particularly plush, and the only light in the room came from several wall torches. The fireplace was cold and dusty, and the entire room appeared in need of a cleaning. In short, it was the same anonymous and sordid setting Albus always conjured. 

“Albus?”

Albus stood, rising from the sofa in front of the hearth and turning to face Scorpius. “Strip,” he commanded.

Scorpius felt his hands rising to his tie immediately. Following Albus's orders was natural after so long—it took actual willpower to still his hands at his throat. “Wait, Albus”—

Albus frowned. “What?”

“I—I want to talk for a minute.” Scorpius's voice was shaking.

“Well, I want to fuck your mouth, so make it quick.”

“Can we sit down?”

“Oh, for fuck's sakes, Malfoy, you bloody bint. Yes, by all means, sit,” Albus snapped, waving his hand at the sofa in a grand gesture of invitation as he plopped himself down as well.

Scorpius perched carefully at the opposite end of the sofa, turning his body towards Albus but keeping his eyes studiously on his own hands, which were currently tangled in the robes at his lap. “I just wanted—I wanted to tell you that I was in the dungeons and saw what you did to Fletcher that day, when he . . . when he said what he said. To you. About me.” 

He ventured a peep up at Albus, then immediately wished he had not. The expression on Albus's face was one of unadulterated fury.

“You _what_?”

“It's nothing, I just, I mean, I saw you,” Scorpius babbled, wringing his hands tighter in his robes. “I just wanted to thank you for standing up for me, you know, because—“

“Shut the fuck up, Malfoy.” Albus's words were deathly sharp, stopping Scorpius as surely as an Imperius. Albus was on his feet in a second, suddenly larger, too large for the room, a looming presence over Scorpius's tiny frame.

“I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Malfoy, you fucking stupid. Little. Faggot. I don't know what you think you saw, but I never 'stood up' for a little whore like you.” Albus laughed, reaching down and grabbing Scorpius by the throat, pushing him back against the sofa with brutal force. “How could I fucking stand up for you, a little pansy-arse shirt lifter who's only good enough to suck my cock? A little hole for me to fuck when I don't feel like chasing some fucking skirt and putting up with her shit?”

Scorpius gagged, eyes wide and streaming, but he didn't move, didn't try to escape Albus's grasp. 

“You think I want to protect you? Shit, Malfoy, if I wanted to 'stand up for you' every time someone called you a faggot I'd have to punch every motherfucking student in the castle and half the staff. Bloody Salazar, Malfoy, what do you think this is? Think you're my fucking girlfriend?”

Scorpius shook his head desperately. 

“Think I fucking care about you? Huh? Do I ever kiss your filthy cocksucking mouth? Do I ever touch your faggot fucking prick? No. That's goddamned right I don't. I fuck your tight little arse and your pretty little bitch mouth.”

Scorpius was frozen, tears coursing from his big gray eyes, catching on his thick lashes and dripping down his cheeks, snot hanging from his nose. He couldn't stop shaking his head—agreeing with Albus's disavowals, agreeing with his own degradation, anything to stop the words falling from Albus' angry mouth, anything to relax the grip on Scorpius's fragile neck that was beginning to bruise.

“Get up,” Albus whispered, finally releasing his hold. “Get up and get naked and get on the bed.”

Scorpius shuddered, knowing he couldn't stand up, that his legs wouldn't support him. “No, Albus, I'm sorry, I have to—“ 

“I said get the fuck up.” Albus suddenly grabbed his wand from his pocket, pointing it steadily at Scorpius. “Get up.”

Scorpius did, nearly falling over his own feet as he complied. 

Albus's voice was dead. “Get naked and get on the bed. Put your faggot arse in the air.”

Scorpius couldn't stop his hands from shaking as he tried to disrobe. His breath was squeaky and his vision was starred with bursts of brilliant light. 

With a flick of his wand, Albus Vanished Scorpius's clothing, leaving him naked and shaking so badly that his knees literally knocked together. He took two steps toward the bed, stumbled.

Albus was right behind him, grabbing his arm in a grip designed to exert maximum force. He dragged Scorpius forward, pushing him face down onto the bed.

“Don't. Move.” Scorpius tried not to, but his entire body was shaking as he tried to keep his hips in the air. He rested his head on his elbows, burying his face in the mattress as he listened to Albus strip. When the mattress dipped under Albus's weight, only sheer resolve and terror kept Scorpius from scrambling off.

“I guess I've been too gentle with you, huh, Malfoy? Treating you too much like a little girl, just because you look like one.” Albus laughed, and it was a dead sound. “That's over now, Malfoy.”

Scorpius gave up bravery and tried to crawl forward, but Albus was too fast, catching Scorpius's hips roughly and pushing his prick against Scorpius's arse. “Now you'll see what you really mean to me, Malfoy. Not even worth a lubrication spell.” Albus laughed again when Scorpius gasped. “Not even worth my fucking spit.”

Scorpius thrashed, and Albus's right hand flew out and caught his temple, knocking Scorpius's head sideways and snapping his neck painfully. “Hold still or I'll make you wish you were dead.”

At first, Scorpius wasn't sure it would even be possible. Albus lined up against him, dry, but Scorpius's body simply refused entrance. After a few abortive thrusts, though, Albus simply grasped Scorpius's hips tighter and pulled him back, literally dragging Scorpius onto his dry prick. 

Scorpius screamed.

Albus' hips snapped, and he pounded into Scorpius, harder and more brutal than Scorpius had ever experienced. And, for the first time, Albus was absolutely silent. Not a word fell from his lips as Scorpius sobbed underneath him, and the only sound in the room was his breathing and Scorpius's crying.

“Oh, Albus, please—please, stop,” Scorpius finally begged.

Albus didn't respond, except to quicken his pace.

Scorpius squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to will himself to relax, knowing that his injuries would be worse if he clenched. He counted each and every thrust, _one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten_ , concentrating on nothing but the numbers. 

He lost count at 237. 

It ended when Albus came with a grunt, pushing Scorpius down onto the bed as soon as his orgasm ended and pulling out. 

It felt wetter than usual, and Scorpius assumed that was blood mixing with the come. He didn't bother to look.

He listened as Albus got dressed, but he didn't move or even turn his head.

He heard Albus move to the door and open it, but before the door shut again Albus's last words hung in the room.

“Still wanna thank me, Malfoy?”


End file.
